


Living On the Edge

by shockvaluecola



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Facial Shaving, Kissing, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Recovered Memories, Sexual Tension, Shaving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-28
Updated: 2014-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-21 02:32:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1534358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shockvaluecola/pseuds/shockvaluecola
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's not really Bucky right now. But he's not the Winter Soldier, either. Shaving might take him a step closer to Bucky, though, which he's pretty sure is where he wants to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Living On the Edge

**Author's Note:**

> aka I Have a Shaving Kink and I Am, In Fact, Ashamed.

"Ready?"

James nodded. He wasn't really ready to be Bucky, didn't feel like Bucky yet. But he wasn't really the Winter Soldier anymore either, was he? Somewhere in between. James fit more than anything -- it was a name, something he could be called and that was clear enough about meaning him, but he'd never really felt a strong connection to it, that he could remember and according to Steve. He'd always been Bucky in his heart. So until he felt more like Bucky and less like...whoever he was currently, he'd let himself be called James. He didn't really have any reaction to it, though, when Steve slipped up and called him Bucky, except for it ringing false in his ears. It didn't make him angry or sad or anything, and that didn't seem like a very Bucky reaction. It was a work in progress. _He_ was a work in progress.

The truth was he hadn't been with Steve very long. Only a day or so, after weeks of being on his own. He hadn't showered or shaved in that time, with no one to order him to and it not being important to the mission (he'd assigned this mission himself: starting with Steve Rogers, find out who you are). He'd noticed people wrinkling their noses as he passed, but he was used to screams of terror and pain. It was simply below his notice. So Steve had made him shower, and then this morning James had his face covered in shaving cream, and Steve Rogers was holding a straight razor, nothing like the plastic safety razors James had seen more recently.

"I never got used to those," Steve had admitted. "And I'm not sure they'd do you much good right now. I think that dead woodland animal on your face is too much."

The casual jibe had jiggled something loose in James, and what came next slipped out before he could control it: "Punk."

Steve's face had softened, and he'd smiled like James was sunshine. "Jerk."

"You gotta hold still, okay?" he was saying now. "I'll start with the easy part."

James tensed as the blade was brought towards his face, even with Steve moving as slowly and nonthreateningly as possible. By the time it was close enough that his eyes wouldn't focus, James was starting to lean back and had both hands clenched on the edge of the sink. Starting at his temple, Steve scraped away an inch of hair, then stepped back, giving James some room to breathe.

"Not so bad, right?" he asked. James shook his head reluctantly, hands still on the sink. When Steve stepped up again he took the metal hand gently and rested it on his own waist.

"The sink'll break," Steve said, with that same soft smile. "I won't."

James believed him, able to feel the solid packed muscle under the captain's shirt and skin, remembering the strength in his limbs when they had fought. He didn't try to soften the clench of his fingers as Steve took another inch, swishing the blade in the sink to rinse it. If it hurt, Steve didn't show it.

"I bet this itches like crazy, huh?" Steve asked, sympathetic but casual. "You'll feel a lot better when we're done."

"Didn't care."

"Well, all the same, it'll be nice not to think about." He took another small swipe, and maybe James' fingers clenched a little less that time.

"I could do this myself," he said, before he was aware of speaking.

"You remember how to use a straight razor?" Steve asked, raising one skeptical eyebrow as he rinsed.

"No," James admitted. "But it seems simple."

"Well, I make it look easy," he said, tone tolerant. "And I want to help you." Another swipe. James noticed that the shaved skin did feel a lot better than that still covered in whiskers and shaving cream. Raw and a little scraped, but new and fresh at the same time. Steve was halfway down his cheek now, getting close to James' mouth and his jaw. 

"Let's get the hard part over with," Steve said, and moved the blade down to James' throat. 

James had a hand around Steve's neck quicker than either of them could blink. Steve lifted his free hand in a gesture of peace, then reached forward to gently cup it around the back of James' head. The hold wasn't controlling or harsh, just gentle, urging James to tilt his head back. He was making no move to shake off the hand around his neck, either. "It's okay, Buck. You can trust me."

And despite having no clear reason to, James knew it was true, and he did.

He resisted the urge to swallow as the blade started to move, able to feel every tug and scrape against his skin as hairs were sliced away. He kept his eyes locked on Steve's face, a warning, but Steve was focused on his throat. The razor came up under his chin and then skipped away, and Steve smiled as if to say 'that wasn't so bad.' James just narrowed his eyes and didn't move his hand. For some unfathomable reason, that just made Steve smile wider. He refused to move or take his hand back as Steve took the blade to the next part of his throat, keeping James' head still tilted back. His skin seemed to prickle in a way that had nothing to do with the blade, and he suddenly felt warm. He didn't think the temperature had increased in the room and there was no reason for his body temperature to be changing on its own. He got distracted briefly with Steve's face, how he was worrying at his lower lip with this look of intense concentration. Something that had been tight suddenly loosened inside James. Steve was obviously trying not to cut him.

He tried to concentrate, paying attention to any anomaly in the movement of the blade that suggested he should squeeze. The blade wasn't long or wide or pointed, but it was wickedly sharp. James could respect a blade like that, and respect that it was plenty large enough to sever an artery. He cleared his throat, daring to breathe finally when Steve removed the razor to rinse it. It seemed like he couldn't quite get enough air.

"More than halfway done," Steve said. "Then you'll be able to let go."

It occurred to James that this might be uncomfortable for Steve, knowing he might have the life squeezed out of him at any moment. Well, good. That would motivate him to behave.

He had to suppress a shiver at the tugging on his skin as the blade caught the hairs, this time. James told himself it was just from the unfamiliar sensation. Maybe it tickled a little -- he'd been conditioned not to notice physical discomfort until it was serious. That must be all it was.

"There," Steve said, pulling the blade away from his throat one last time. "Done. I still need to get your jaw, so you can keep holding on if you want. After that it should be easy, though."

James felt something odd. Like he had been...allowed to fall, but less extreme. Was this the disappointment he'd heard about? It wasn't as bad as people made it sound, if so. He took his hand away from Steve's throat, deciding to trust him just a little bit more. "I can still kill you in a second," James asserted.

Steve just snorted. "You can try," he said, touching James' jaw to make him turn his head. 

The strokes now were longer, traveling along the line of his jaw instead of upwards. James suppressed another shiver and had the sudden urge to urinate. He glanced down, shifting his feet, then did a double take. He was in a pair of pajama pants borrowed from Steve, but he was pretty sure urination would have been impossible at the moment.

He looked up at Steve, who had looked down to see what James was looking at. "Oh," Steve said, quietly. He seemed to shake himself out of something and looked up at him again. "It's okay, Buck. That's-"

Whatever the rest of the sentence was, James missed it in the sudden flood of memories returning. Before Steve was done speaking, James leaned forward and kissed him on the mouth.

He pulled back after a second, then did the same thing again, closing his eyes and staying longer that time. When he pulled back this time Steve was spitting and wiping at his mouth, and James frowned.

"Sorry."

"No, no, it's okay!" Steve assured him. "I just...shaving cream."

"Oh." Yeah, he maybe should have waited on that. But he hadn't wanted to, and there was no one making him do things he didn't want anymore. "I wanted to kiss you."

Steve was looking at him like he was everything good in the world again, and James squirmed. "We used to kiss a lot," James said, not sure why he wanted to break the silence but knowing that he did. "Right?"

"Yeah," Steve said. "You remember?"

"Some," James admitted. "Pieces." There was a pause. "You used to be smaller. Then you got bigger."

"That's right," Steve agreed, nodding.

James looked down at his own arm. "I'm bigger too."

"You are, yeah," Steve said. "You have more muscle now."

James nodded. "Not as changed as you, though."

Steve laughed. "Yeah." He looked down for a moment, then looked up at James, holding up the razor again. "Ready to finish?"

James nodded, and didn't feel the need to grab Steve's throat anymore. He wasn't completely sure, still not really knowing what Bucky felt like, but...he was pretty sure he felt just a little bit more like Bucky.

*

When they were done, Steve wiped James' face off with a towel, getting the last bits of shaving cream and hair, then turned him toward the mirror.

"There," he said. "You look like you again."

James stared. As the Winter Soldier, he had not been encouraged to linger on mirrors. He wasn't even sure the last time he'd seen his own face clearly, unless one counted the Smithsonian (and he didn't). 

"Or at least, you will," Steve added, gathering James' hair behind his head and holding it. "I know a guy who could do your old haircut, if you want."

Glaring, James shook his head to make Steve let go.

He just laughed. "All right, all right. We'll deal with the hair tomorrow."

**Author's Note:**

> liked that? like [this](https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00IH9TF84)! and come say hi on [tumblr](http://lostquaintrelle.tumblr.com/)!


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